


My Brightest Star

by Yanana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And I'll try to be funny, F/F, Hermione is a Curse Breaker, Hormones and magic do not mix, It's a business agreement really, Until it isn't, Who needs information, as little angst as possible, narcissa is pregnant, she needs help, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28987116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yanana/pseuds/Yanana
Summary: Narcissa is left with an unexpected surprise after a quick last fumble with her late husband. She desperately needs help because hormones and magic don't mix. Also, how does one keep an entire Manor in order without any Elves? Manual labor? The audacity!Hermione is a Curse Breaker who needs rare and specific information for a case. Information that can be found in Malfoy Manor so she strikes a business agreement with Narcissa. And then it just all goes wrong!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 173
Kudos: 331
Collections: Favorite





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was whining to Bet_On_Black, Hustling_Rube93 and BlondeBombshell91 that I didn't have any inspiration for a new fic. Apparently I was mistaken. It's strange to write Narcissa in an entirely different way than in Once Upon A Dream but she'll always be sassy and classy.
> 
> Enjoy and make sure to leave me a comment ;)

Narcissa stared at her clean underwear for a very long time before hoisting herself from the toilet and pulling her knickers up again. She should have bled by now... She was never late. The blonde sighed as she gazed upon her tired complexion in the bathroom mirror. She hadn't slept much these past few days. While she and Lucius no longer loved each other by the day they parted ways, it had still broken her heart to read about his passing in Azkaban. A fatehe didn't deserve according to her. A wave of nausea washed over her and Cissy steadied herself against the sinks, quickly splashing some cold water in her face. It was just exhaustion and stress. That's what she kept telling herself. 

After a few silent moments, she felt like she could move without throwing up and staggered out of the bathroom. The day had barely begun and she already wished for it to be over again. Even when she had a proper night’s sleep, she still woke up tired. A little voice told her she needed to get herself tested at St. Mungo’s, but the witch shook her head. Autumn was a season that always weighed her down a bit. That and the grief she felt for Lucius’ sudden death. She shuddered when she remembered the conversation with the Minister of Magic.

_‘I’m very sorry for your loss, Madame Malfoy.’_

_‘Black.’_

_‘I beg your pardon?’_

_‘I assume it’s Madame Black again. Now that Lucius is…’_

_Kingsley inclined his head and gave Narcissa a moment to collect herself. A handkerchief appeared out of nowhere and the blonde gratefully accepted it, dabbing at the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. When she finally looked up again, her expression was stoic. Her true emotions hidden behind a mask like she’d been taught to do all her life._

_‘How?’_

_‘The details are rather gruesome, Madame Black. Are you sure you want to know?’_

_‘My husband was sent to Azkaban barely a month ago and now he’s dead? Yes, I want to know how that happened!’_

_The Minister shifted in his seat, ‘It looks like he went insane. The walls of his prison cells were covered in blood from him scratching his nails against them until there were no more fingernails left. According to other prisoners, he spent most of his days babbling to himself.’_

_‘The war already broke Lucius. He should never have been sent to that dreadful place to begin with!’_

_Shacklebolt winced a little bit but managed to stay calm under Narcissa’s anger. The woman wasn’t wrong after all but the war had made too much of an impact on those who survived. They wanted to see the Death Eaters being punished. And while the Ministry tried its best to have the majority of the witches and wizards who’d followed Voldemort re-instated, a handful of them had to pay the price. Lucius being one of them._

_‘Azkaban will be closed once the last prisoner breathes his final breath,’ he assured the woman in front of him, ‘Its only purpose now is to ease the victims of the war. They need to know their dead are avenged.’_

_Narcissa merely scoffed, for she already knew the reasons behind Lucius’s arrest while she and Draco had been allowed to remain free, ‘So, what happened?’_

_‘He threw himself off the cliffs.’_

_A silence hung between them, making the air impossibly thick and the Minister visibly swallowed. Narcissa was merely processing the information of course, but her cold gaze gave nothing away. It so didn’t fit Lucius, she thought. The first cracks in his sanity had already appeared long before the Final Battle so she was not surprised in the least to hear that he’d gone mad._

_But ending his own life? That demanded a specific type of bravery she never expected him to have. A coward until the very end, she’d always screamed at him during their very heated fights. The blonde exhaled, all tension leaving her body, while she nodded her head at the wizard in front of her. She knew now and while it didn’t change the fact that she had just become a widow, she did feel pleased for Lucius. At least he found some pride in his final moments, however gruesome they might’ve been._

The memory had made Narcissa all emotional again and the witch cursed silently. Since when had she become such a dramatic cow? She didn’t even love him anymore! No, those feelings had long subsided ever since Lucius had betrayed her and Draco in exchange for status, wealth and power. He never seemed to be satisfied with what he had. And the moment their son paid the price, Narcissa had had enough. They had lived separate lives for the majority of their final year together. An easy thing to do in a Manor as big as this one. 

But that didn’t mean she didn’t care for him anymore; Narcissa truly felt like she’d lost her best friend. So she mourned. Wept even. For days straight before finding some semblance of herself and trying to live her life again. The witch snorted. Whatever life that may be. She was so extremely lonely in her golden palace of empty rooms and faded glamour. Lucius had left everything to her, and when she’d come to pass the inheritance would pass on to Draco. But their son had clearly stated that he wanted nothing to do with the name Malfoy before leaving for France to start a new life. 

It had taken Narcissa considerable effort to have him in her life again, and even then, their relationship felt forced and stilted. The witch felt new tears prickle behind her eyelids and forcefully wiped them away. She was not going to cry again! As usual she tried to ignore the hollow echoes her footsteps made in the empty Manor as she made her way to the kitchen for breakfast. There was only one House-Elf left, and he was so old Narcissa half expected him to drop dead in the next few weeks. 

But once she got to the kitchen, Beril had already cut fresh fruits into little pieces. Cissy’s standard breakfast together with some plain yoghurt and a cup of the blackest coffee. She gracefully perched herself atop of a chair and grabbed the newspaper that had been brought in by her owl earlier that morning. Whilst her eyes perused the headlines, she softly stirred some sugar through her coffee before sipping it, loving the way it burned on her tongue. But when she wanted to take the first bite of her yoghurt with fruit, the scent of oranges penetrated her nose and she nearly retched. 

With an even paler complexion than usual she pushed her plate further down the table, her appetite long gone. Beril was with her in the mere blink of an eye, his old and wrinkly ears drooping from the thought of having displeased his Mistress. 

‘Has Beril done something wrong?’

‘No,’ Narcissa said while trying to keep her coffee down, ‘but perhaps no more oranges in my future breakfasts?’

The Elf inclined his head and with a loud snap of his fingers, the offending bowl of breakfast disappeared from the table. Before he could follow suit however, a thought formed itself in Narcissa’s mind. No, not a thought. A craving! She wanted toast.

‘Beril, bring me some well-buttered toast instead. Two slices will suffice.’

If the Elf was surprised at his Mistress request, he didn’t show it as he vanished into thin air to fulfil his task. Narcissa always avoided eating anything too fat or too sugary, but the magical creature was long happy to see his Mistress eat at all. She’d been taking terrible care of herself lately. Suddenly a loud _woosh_ announced the arrival of a guest and seeing as Narcissa only spoke to one person, there was no doubt as to whom it was.

‘Draco?’

The blonde wizard hesitantly appeared into the kitchen, his shoulders and back rigid as he was obviously not comfortable. He had grown so tall during the last years of adolescence, easily surpassing Cissy who really needed her stiletto’s in order to have some noticeable height. He wore a black, tailored suit with an elegant grey shirt and Narcissa couldn’t help but feel pleased that her son hadn’t lost his sense of style now that she no longer dressed him. 

‘Mother,’ he drawled while rubbing at the patch of hairs on his cheek. 

‘Are you growing a beard?’

Draco’s eyes widened at the realization that he was scratching his still non-existent beard and dropped his hand to his side annoyedly. He once admitted to Narcissa that he always dreaded visiting her because she insisted on living at Malfoy Manor, his childhood home he came to despise so much. That’s why Narcissa didn’t take his coldness personally. Time would heal all wounds after all. 

‘I came to invite you to the garden party Astoria and I will be hosting next month.’

‘That sounds delightful.’

‘She insisted I ask you to come. We’re family after all.’

That did hurt, Narcissa thought as she winced a little bit. But Draco seemed to realize his mistake at the change in his mother’s behaviour and he quickly backtracked.

‘That came out wrong. I wasn’t sure if I should invite you because you haven’t gone out in a long time. Astoria claimed it would do you good.’

Narcissa cocked her head to one side. Had she really not gone outside in such a long time? The silence seemed to arouse some suspicion in her son who’d squinted his eyes looking at her. 

‘Speaking of good. You don’t look well, mother.’

‘I’ve been feeling a bit tired lately, that is all.’

She didn’t need to tell him why she felt tired. Draco may have moved far away, but he still knew his mother. He knew the loss of his father struck her harder than expected. He knew that despite her claims of hatred, she’d cared for him until the very last moment. Even he wasn’t totally unaffected by his father’s passing but he had enough distractions. Astoria, work, life. His mother had nothing at all. And for the first time, he looked at her. Really looked. And what he saw didn’t please him one bit.

‘I’d like you to see a Healer.’

‘Draco there’s no need...’

‘Please. Mother.’

The insistence in his voice was unmistakable. That was the Black blood that ran through his veins and Narcissa couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride. Not one to disappoint, she softly smiled at her son and nodded her head.

‘Very well, I’ll go as soon as you leave.’

‘Then don’t let me keep you,’ Draco said rather briskly, obviously feeling uncomfortable again, ‘I’ll send you an official invitation as well. Goodbye mother.’

And before Narcissa had a chance to reply, the blonde Disapparated to the nearest fireplace and Floo’d himself back to France. It took his mother a solid few minutes to realize she still had her hand raised in order to stop him from leaving before she came to herself again. A strangled sob resonated through the kitchen and bounced off the walls of the enormous estate that served as nothing more thanNarcissa’s very own prison. 

***

Narcissa nearly tripped as the loud noises of the city startled her several times. She clearly wasn’t used to being outside anymore. Draco was right. She hadn’t risked the Floo-network to travel to St. Mungo’s as every spinning notion made her extremely sick. So she had just Apparated behind a phone booth close to the hospital, intending to talk the final distance. But she already felt so exhausted and her feet hurt from walking in those ridiculous high heels because her shoes didn’t seem to fit her feet that well anymore? How was that possible?

She scrunched up her nose several times at muggles who came too close to her liking before finally seeing the entrance to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The department store Purges and Dowse with its typical red-bricks was a welcome sight for the tired witch. Narcissa quickly slipped between the doors and turned towards one of the dummies in order to gain entrance to the hospital. Finally the wand crossed with a human bone emerged in front of Narcissa and the witch breathed a sigh of relief. If she would collapse now, at least she’d be in good hands. 

‘What can I help you with?’ the witch at the reception said with a rather nasal voice.

‘I’ve not been feeling well for days. I thought I’d better have myself checked.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

Narcissa almost rolled her eyes. She was a Black. She didn’t need an appointment. Her family owned half the hospital after all. 

‘I don’t think that will be necessary. Please refer me to the best Healer you have. Tell them it’s for Madame Black.’

At the mention of her name, the witch’s eyes flew open and she hastily stuttered an apology claiming that she hadn’t recognized Narcissa. The blonde smirked. The name Malfoy might have been tarnished beyond repair, but the name Black still held some importance it would seem. And therefore, mere minutes later, Narcissa found herself in the office of the Head Healer of St. Mungo’s. 

‘Good day, Madame Black. What seems to be amiss?’

Narcissa had to refrain from shuffling in her seat. _A proper girl does not show her nerves_ the voice of her mother sounded tauntingly in her head. So she did what she did best and hid behind her stone cold façade while politely explaining how she’d felt for the last few days. The Healer who was an older wizard, nodded and took notes before asking Narcissa to sit down on the table. 

He ran some basic tests first. Her knee reflexes, her pupil dilation. The Healer listened to her breathing and her heartbeat and checked her throat for any redness. In the meantime he asked questions. Lots of questions and Narcissa felt she had a hard time answering them. Usually it was she who did the asking! If she had difficulties relieving herself? Salazar’s Snake no! And even if she had, a proper lady would never convey such information to a man! 

The Healer finally stopped his inquiry and asked Narcissa to lie down, something she did begrudgingly. After asking for her consent, he performed a series of diagnostic spells muttering under his breath. When he was finished, he gestured to his patient that she could sit down on the chair again before he pointed his wand to a stack of empty papers and the diagnostics began to write themselves. 

Narcissa’s eyes widened a bit at the sight of the graphs and statistics that appeared on two, three, no, four pages of paper. He then took the results and left the room without a word leaving a rather perplexed Narcissa behind. Surely her ailment would be something minor? Something a good night’s rest and lots of water could fix. When the Healer returned, he smiled sympathetically at Narcissa who didn’t like it one bit. 

‘I think I know what’s bothering you, Madame Black.’

‘Ah?’

The Healer sat himself down again and pressed the tips of his fingers together, searching for the right words to convey the news. The entire Wizarding Community of Great-Britain knew about the death of Lucius Malfoy so that made the topic even more precarious. 

‘It would seem, Madame Black, that you are with child.’

Narcissa’s stoic expression nearly slipped then and there. She was WHAT? The nausea immediately returned full force and before she could slip off her chair, the Healer was with her in an instant supporting her gently. With a flick of his wand, a glass of water emerged in front of them.

‘Drink this. It’s well sugared,’ he offered but Narcissa didn’t pay him attention as she could only hear the loud thumping of her heart and the rushing of her blood through her veins. 

‘Are you sure?’

The question came out a lot less firm than she’d intended it to be but Narcissa was reaching the point where she couldn’t care anymore and she was reaching it fast. 

‘Positive,’ the Healer confirmed. ‘We think you’re somewhere around six weeks pregnant now.’

And suddenly it clicked as the memory of Narcissa and Lucius having one last quick fumble on the dining table resurfaced in her mind. The Aurors would come and collect him later that day to transfer him to his cell in Azkaban, and before they both knew what was happening they were fucking each other fiercely. Every suppressed emotion, every last shred of affection they still had for each other was released during that final shag. 

Narcissa swallowed. A shag that got her pregnant.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cissy's situation gets worse and forces her to take drastic measures. But those might be exactly what Hermione needs...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> I wasn't planning on updating any time soon yet. But I stumbled into a Discord that has lots of Cissamione shippers and well... they were so nice to me I decided to publish sooner! Hope you'll like it <3

Narcissa barely made it in time to the toilet before crashing down onto her knees and throwing up her stomach’s contents. She cursed herself again and again and again. She should have recognized the signs sooner! Salazar’s Snake, she had recognized them. But she was too stubborn to admit they were true and instead kept telling herself that her grief for Lucius was the cause. Damn Lucius! Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she dragged herself to the sink to rinse her mouth. 

Anger flared through her body when she remembered the Healer asking her if she hadn’t used protective spells or potions. How dare he! Of course he couldn’t have known that Narcissa had tried for many years after Draco to conceive again without success. Of course he couldn’t have known that she had craved for more children until it almost drove her insane. And of course he couldn’t have known that those were the reasons she and Lucius never used protections. Just in case. Just like as some sort of miracle, they would be blessed with another life. 

Bile rose in Narcissa’s throat and before she knew it, she was once more clawing at the edge of the toilet, throwing up until it hurt. Stress always had a terrible effect on her body and, combined with hormones raging through her like a bonfire, she felt sicker than she ever had before. It would seem her wish for another life had finally been granted, but it had cost her Lucius’s life and the irony of that just made her want to do an impression of Bella’s insane cackle. When she finally managed to calm her stomach down a bit, Narcissa craved a bath. 

‘Beril!’

Nothing happened much to Narcissa’s dismay who tried to summon the House-Elf again. Her voice echoed through the Manor but the familiar banging sound of Elf-apparition never came. Exasperated Cissy marched downstairs to demand an explanation for his tardiness when she almost tripped over a body. A pang of guilt shot through her heart when she recognized the ancient creature at her feet. Dropped dead from old age, just like she feared. _Poor Beril._

The blonde rubbed her eyes. Her bath would have to wait. She marched to the fireplace and tossed a bit of Floo powder in it. If only her head travelled through the Floo, her stomach wouldn’t get sick, right? She squeezed her eyes shut before kneeling and putting her head in the flames, feeling relieved that her theory proved somewhat correct. She managed to arrive at her destination without feeling sick after all. The wizard whose office she had entered was already waiting for her.

‘Your arrival has been announced, Madame Black. How may the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures help you?’

‘My House-Elf died today.’

‘I see. Do you wish for us to collect the body?’

‘I do. See to it that it gets done as soon as possible.’

The wizard inclined his head while taking notes and tapping the paper in order for it to fold itself into a memo and fly off. 

‘Do you require a new Elf?’

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, ‘I thought those practices were frowned upon these days?’

‘There’s a lot of new rules in place to ensure the safety and wellbeing of the Elves. You’ll need to fill in paperwork and there will be random check-ups to see if your House-Elf is being treated properly.’

‘Never mind,’ Narcissa answered, already feeling a headache unfold from thinking about all the new requirements she’d have to follow. 

‘Very well. You can expect our team tomorrow first thing.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Narcissa almost shouted.

‘I’m sorry Madame Black. Your call was the last one we accepted for today. I’m afraid the office is closed now.’

And with a very polite smile, the wizard waved his hand at the fireplace before Narcissa could demand a special treatment and she was flung back to Malfoy Manor. The blonde scoffed the moment her head landed on her shoulders again. Customer service was not what it used to be, she thought. A quick glance at the silver watch tucked into her dress showed her that she still had time for her second call. Another flick of Floo powder activated the hearth again and off she was.

‘Madame Black! I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon,’ the Healer she had seen earlier that day said with a surprised voice.

‘Trust me, I didn’t intend to call on you again,’ Narcissa said bitingly, ‘but it appears my House-Elf has passed.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

Narcissa almost hissed at such a ridiculous answer but managed to compose herself, ‘That means I’m on my own and regarding my current… predicament, that doesn’t seem wise.’

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ the Healer answered ever so polite, ‘I already informed you that pregnancies at your age have far greater risks.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Narcissa sighed not wanting to be reminded of her old age yet again, ‘so I want to hire a Mediwitch.’

The Healer’s expression fell, ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible. We’re severely understaffed and there’s a waiting list as long as Merlin’s beard of people needing assistance at home.’

‘Must I remind you that my family owns half the hospital, sir?’

The Healer winced but, much to his credit, didn’t give in, ‘Even if your name could get you higher on the list, there are patients in much more dire situations who require help. Lots of victims from the war…’

Narcissa didn’t like his inclinations one bit, but was smart enough to realize that he had a point. It would not help her already seriously damaged popularity if she would use her power to acquire home-assistance from a Mediwitch. And while that wouldn’t have mattered to her before, now she had a child to think of. And she didn’t want him or her to suffer from her actions the way Draco had. So she swallowed her insults and forced a smile upon her face.

‘Very well then.’

‘I apologize again, Madame Black. But I do suggest you put out an advert? There’s lots of Mediwitches on the private market right now.’

‘I’ll take that into consideration. Good evening.’

Once back at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa started pacing. Putting out an advert would mean that everybody knew of her situation. And she hadn’t demanded full discretion of the Healer only to have the Daily Prophet write about her secret the very next day. She needed this to remain behind closed doors for as long as she was capable. Suddenly, an idea formed inside her head and the witch nodded. She didn’t need an actual Mediwitch. No, she just needed help in the house and that more than doubled her options.

***

Hermione yawned and decided that she would call it a day. She never minded working long hours as there was nobody waiting for her back at her apartment. Nobody except Crookshanks that is but he more than managed to keep himself occupied. The candle on her desk was almost completely burnt and started to sputter, but the witch didn’t pay it any attention. Hermione had been working as a Curse Breaker for St. Mungo’s for more than a year now after having spent a few years at the Ministry’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

But the bureaucracy and incompetence of her colleagues had made her choose a different career path. Here at St. Mungo’s she had been given her own office, a better wage, and more flexible hours. Of course she occasionally got called to work for an emergency, but she could still count those cases on one hand. Her work itself remained much the same though. Where she used to break curses such as biting doors, she now cured curses who had medical effects like memory loss or painful scars.

And the latter was the project she was currently working on when she didn’t have any Healers who required her assistance for a patient. They always allowed her to focus on a big project as long as it would benefit the hospital. Her first success was the painless and quick removal of all warts, cysts and lumps and it had earned St. Mungo’s international praise. But as she was still being plagued by nightmares from time to time and still suffered from the curse absorbed by her own skin, she had opted to look into that for her next project.

She had always been hesitant to do so as she feared what could happen if she started tampering with Bellatrix’s curse. Especially at the Ministry where they showed little sympathy for failure and magical projects. Everything had to be done by the book. But at St. Mungo’s, Hermione did have support. From no less than Andromeda Black, the President of the Board of Directors after having worked as a Mediwitch herself for many years. She and a few of Hermione’s colleagues understood what it meant for her to have that scar removed. 

So with the promise of being treated if things went wrong, Hermione had settled on this very ambitious project. But it soon became clear that it might have been a tad too ambitious, as nothing she had tried so far seemed to work. She just didn’t have access to the right information! Even a trip to Hogwarts hadn’t delivered any results and Hermione knew St. Mungo’s was hoping for yet another breakthrough even if they didn’t say so in actual words. 

Suddenly the flame died with a poof of smoke, shrouding Hermione in the growing darkness from outside. It really was late, she noticed. Luckily this time she didn’t have any forced blind dates set up by Ginny that she would be late for because she lost track of time. No, just a hot bath and a quick bite to eat before she would crawl between the sheets of her bed with a good book. Hermione smiled when she walked to her fireplace and activated the Floo so she could travel home.

Her apartment was rather spacious and very cosily decorated with lots of warm colours like hazel brown, deep red, and vintage pink. The entire sitting area was focused around her fireplace that was decorated with pictures all with different frames. There was a large couch for three and two luxury armchairs of which one was usually taken by Crookshanks. A variety of pillows that somehow all matched together was splayed on top of them. 

The dining table could host eight people without problem but was rarely used as Hermione always ate at her kitchen aisle that had three barstools in front of it. Her kitchen itself was large enough for the amount of time she used it. Right behind it was a laundry room and storage closet for all her cleaning equipment. The apartment itself had two bedrooms. One master bedroom, which led to the bathroom that had a bath and shower combined, a toilet, and one large sink with an even larger mirror. The other room was currently being used as a home office and a library. 

Hermione sighed contentedly the moment she stepped into her home and scratched the Kneazle cat that came running behind his ears. She took one of her five-minute meals and heated it in the microwave while going through her mail for that day. There was another invitation from Molly Weasley to attend Percy’s wedding later this year as she hadn’t answered the first one yet. She still felt a bit awkward after her rather messy break-up with Ron. And while they were on speaking terms again now, they hadn’t been when the first invitation arrived. Hence her lack of an answer.

With the tip of her tongue between her teeth, Hermione quickly scribbled down her acceptance and ticked the box that said she wouldn’t bring a plus one. No matter how hard Ginny pushed Hermione to let her fix a date for her, she was going alone. The moment she had emptied her plate with ravioli in tomato sauce, Hermione sauntered to the bathroom and filled her tub. It was still her best decision ever when the contractor who renovated this place asked her if she didn’t just want a big walk-in shower. 

More than an hour later, the brunette nestled herself in her mountain of pillows and picked up the book she’d started reading yesterday. It was a novel called Gentleman Jack, and for some reason she hadn’t managed to put it down despite it being about two lesbians and her being straight. Yes. It didn’t take her long, however, to start yawning and with a pained expression on her face she closed the book and dimmed her lights. She obviously needed the rest. 

A decision she was grateful for as Hermione rose well-rested the very next day. Crookshanks was already sitting next to his bowl, obviously displeased that it hadn’t been filled yet when Hermione entered the kitchen and put on some coffee. She was just about to sink her teeth in some toast when an owl tapped her window. A little snack was exchanged for the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler before Hermione could start her morning routine perusing the latest news. Suddenly an advert drew her attention.

_Wanted!_

_Assistance in the household and with personal affairs. Discretion and common sense are required. In return you are paid well and are allowed to use all the facilities of Malfoy Manor as you see fit. The hours may vary depending on needs. Applications via Owl before this week’s end._

_Narcissa Black._

Hermione stared at the paper for so long her coffee had gone cold by the time she sipped it again. Something she quickly fixed with a simple gesture of her fingers. What in Merlin’s beard could have possessed Narcissa to be looking for help? Didn’t she have an army of House-Elves at her disposal? Hermione simply shook her head and started to prepare to travel to work. She had a meeting with Andromeda before her workday started and didn’t want to be late. 

‘Ah, Hermione! Come in!’

‘Hello Andy,’ Hermione grinned at the woman who’d become one of her closest friends. 

After exchanging a few pleasantries Andy came to business, seeing as they were both very busy women. Hermione could already tell by the sincerity of Andy’s expression that the Board of Directors had been bugging her about Hermione’s next project. She knew the dark-haired witch was on her side, but even Andy had to keep her investors happy.

‘Any progress?’

‘I can give you a very extensive list of stuff that doesn’t work,’ Hermione sighed. 

‘Well, if you can’t come up with anything else, I’ll try to work with that.’

‘Honestly Andy! What kind of magic did your sister use on me? It’s ancient, dark, and cruel and I can’t find any written information about this. And it’s not like we can ask _her_!’

Andy smiled a sad smile, ‘I know sweetheart. I’m afraid that type of magic was often used by the Sacred Twenty-Eight. And those families are very private about their heritage. It won’t be easy to find any books or scrolls about it.’

‘Unless,’ Hermione suddenly shrieked causing Andy to jump in her seat, ‘a member of not one but two families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight is currently looking for help and offering her library in return.’

‘What? They use books as payment?’

‘Your sister posted an advert in the Daily Prophet,’ the brunette said while flicking through the newspaper on Andy’s desk and showing her the page it was on, ‘and the person helping her is allowed to use any facilities Malfoy Manor has to offer.’ I might even persuade her to let me visit the library at Black Manor too. She’s the only one that can enter, right?’

Andy was silent for a few moments as she processed the information while frowning at the advert, ‘This is very unusual behaviour for Cissy. She must be quite desperate.’

‘This is exactly what we need! Imagine the information I could find in those libraries?’

‘Hang on,’ Andy interjected, finally picking up on what Hermione was implying, ‘you’re telling me you’d apply for that job? There’s no way Cissy will hire you! And even if she did, who’s to say she’ll take you to Black Manor? It’s been empty for years.’

Hermione waved dismissively with her hand, already lost in her own excitement, ‘It’s definitely worth a try!’

‘Hermione…’

‘Andy, do you have a better idea? Are you really going to be able to please the Board of Directors with a list of stuff that doesn’t work on cursed scars?’

Andy bit her lip but relented eventually, ‘fine. I guess there really is no harm in trying. It’s not like I can ask her. We’re still not on speaking terms.’

With an enormous grin, Hermione took a piece of parchment and started writing her application letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a random message, but my horse and best pal is very sick and is costing me loads of money. Unfortunately I'm fired due to Covid. That's why I started a GoFundMe. Feel free to ignore of course but here's the link: https://www.gofundme.com/f/sick-horse-and-crazy-vet-bills-please-help


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to some misunderstanding, Hermione gets invited for the job interview and both women seem nervous albeit for different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to arcamenel_alatariel for proofreading and fixing literally every wrongly placed comma (lol, thanks love)
> 
> Also I'm sorry for the delay. Blame the Discord that keeps distracting me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Narcissa’s morning started way too early and way too hectic for her liking. For starters, the team from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures arrived to collect Beril’s body. They even charged her for it! The audacity! But before Narcissa had managed to calm herself down, an entire parliament of owls came flying through her front door, all carrying application letters as a response to her advert. 

After she had managed to perfectly ruin her own breakfast Narcissa decided to get right at it, not feeling in the mood to eat burnt toast ever again. She tossed the first application letter in the bin because the handwriting was far too sloppy for her liking. The second letter followed suit as it was written on the cheapest parchment one could find in the Wizarding world. The third letter got opened, but that’s as far as it got because the person addressed her with her first name and she wouldn’t tolerate such familiarity. 

The fourth letter she actually started reading, and after half an hour or so she had selected a few possible candidates. Narcissa wrote one polite invitation and copied it six times before manually adding a different time on each and every one of them. She’d be talking to them personally this Friday. She wanted this all to be over as quickly as possible. 

The blonde dispatched her owls and rubbed her temples. If this plan didn’t work out she’d have to write Andromeda and ask her for help, and that was something her ego wasn’t ready for yet. Narcissa frowned when she saw the state the Manor was in. Beril was gone for one day and she already noticed his absence. Of course he had been too old to properly tend to his duties, but Narcissa had always ignored that out of guilt for Dobby’s passing. She really did need to treat her servants better. 

She sauntered over to the library and summoned a few books regarding household spells. She couldn’t have the applicants thinking she was unhygienic or lazy. The Manor had to be spotless when they arrived. Narcissa flicked through the pages until she found a list of basic cleaning spells. Honestly, how hard could it be? She looked at the wand movements and mimicked them, not encountering any difficulties. But just as she was about to start, something dawned on her. She hadn’t the faintest idea where the cleaning equipment was kept…

She raised her wand to summon it from its storage but suddenly realized she also hadn’t a clue what she was supposed to summon. What does one need? A mop and a bucket? And… a duster? Narcissa rolled her eyes and simply summoned all the cleaning stuff that came flying towards her in the blink of an eye, nearly smashing into her. A quick _aguamenti_ filled the bucket with water and Narcissa easily managed the spell to add soap. She couldn’t help but smirk. She had everything under control, as usual.

***

Hermione was just having lunch with Ginny when the owl tapped on the window of her office. It was a pretty creature with a haughty expression and Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of it. The owl hopped inside and stuck out its leg to deliver the letter attached to it. Hermione gave him a treat but he merely blinked at it before flying out of the window again.

‘Whoa, that’s a picky one,’ Ginny laughed.

‘I can only imagine whose owl it is,’ Hermione muttered while eyeing the elegant and flawless handwriting on the envelope. 

She hadn’t told Ginny about her latest impulsive decision yet because she didn’t really think Narcissa would invite her for the interview. But apparently she had been mistaken, Hermione mused as she opened the envelope and tried to ignore the faint smell of perfume that came with it. The witch invited her for a first interview this Friday at 11am together with a few other possible candidates. Hermione gulped before Ginny managed to snatch the letter from her hands.

‘Hermione?’

‘Yes…’

‘Why in the Holy Harpies is Narcissa Black inviting you for an interview?’

The brunette sighed and started to explain how her need for information led her to apply for a job at Malfoy Manor with Andy’s approval. The more she explained, the wider Ginny’s eyes grew, and by the time Hermione had finished the redhead was practically shaking with disbelief. It took Hermione a lot of promises that she’d be careful before Ginny finally agreed to shut up about it. By the time they had made amends lunch time was over and Hermione pointedly looked at her wristwatch. 

‘Sorry Gins, I really have to go. I promised Healer Abbott I’d pop by her patient later as he’s still suffering from the flesh-eating curse he’s been struck with a week ago.’

‘Fine, but don’t think we won’t discuss this further! And I want a daily update.’

Hermione scoffed, ‘I don’t even have the job yet. And when I do get the job, you can have a weekly update.’

She tried pushing the youngest Weasley out of her office, but Ginny was relentless. And strong since she worked out every day as part of her full time job with the Holyhead Harpies. When it became clear that Ginny wasn’t going to budge an inch, Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated. 

‘What now, Ginny?’

‘Are you sure you’re only doing this because of the books?’

Hermione started to frown, ‘Why else? It’s not like I’m excited to go back to _that place_.’

Ginny blanched a bit at that and immediately backtracked, ‘Yes, of course! You’re right, Hermione. How inconsiderate of me. I’m sorry.’

‘What did you want to say?’ the brunette replied, once more not capable of ignoring her curiosity.

A shit-eating smirk appeared on Ginny’s face, ‘Well, not that it’s any of my business but since you discovered your… appreciation of witches… I couldn’t help but notice that Madame Black is exactly your type.’

‘W-what do you m-mean?’ Hermione spluttered indignantly, ‘I do n-not have a t-type.’

‘Blonde, smart, and way out of your reach?’

‘You just always fail to set me up with interesting witches,’ came the snarky reply.

Ginny feigned shock before blowing Hermione a kiss and finally leaving the office. She left a deafening silence in her wake as Hermione could do nothing but stare at the letter she had received from the former Malfoy matriarch. It takes her a few minutes before she snorts and goes back to work. What a ludicrous idea after all! Like she could fancy the woman who stood by when she was tortured by her deranged sister. Completely _ridikulus_ indeed.

***

But despite Hermione spending the last four days convincing herself that she wasn’t nervous about the upcoming interview, she was still pacing about her apartment trying to calm herself down. The only reason she felt a bit anxious was the fact that her whole project depended on her having access to those libraries. Yes. It had nothing to do with the fact that Narcissa was blonde, smart, and way out of her reach. _Damnit, Ginny!_

Finally her phone rang and Hermione practically dove towards it, ‘Andy! At last!’

‘Sorry love, Teddy was making a fuss because he couldn’t get his hair to turn the right shade of blue.’

‘I really need your help picking an outfit,’ Hermione almost shouted, not even registering how adorable Teddy would look with his new hair colour. 

‘Hermione, you need to calm down! Your nerves are causing your magic to spark and it interferes with the connection’, Andromeda sounded rather static. 

A few breathing exercises later Hermione finally managed to explain which outfit options she had in front of her, desperate to make a good impression on the youngest Black sister who was known for her impeccable style. Luckily for her, she was friends with the best person imaginable to do that because, even after years of not talking, Andy still knew her sister through and through.

‘I’d go for the black jumpsuit and the blazer. It’s fancy but not too much and you’ll still look professional.’

Hermione sighed, ‘I feel like she will judge me anyway.’

‘Oh yes! You could arrive wearing the most expensive designer clothes and she would still judge you. It’s Narcissa we’re talking about here. You’ll just have to make sure you impress her with your wits.’

‘No pressure then.’

‘You can still back out. Nobody expects you to do this,’ Andromeda clarified when she heard the tension in Hermione’s voice.

‘I know, I know. But I need to do this. My project is doomed to fail if I don’t get my hands on those books.’

‘Very well. Good luck love.’

‘Thanks Andy.’

Hermione tossed the phone aside, grateful that Andromeda also owned one because she was certain that travelling by Floo would have had her on her knees and vomiting in no time. She just was that nervous. With shaking hands she started to get dressed, dabbed some perfume on her wrists, and searched for matching shoes and a handbag to go with her outfit. At precisely 10.50 am, Hermione apparated from her apartment, only to appear seconds later in front of the enormous iron gates that prevented visitors from entering Malfoy Manor without explicit permission from the residing family. 

Unsure what to do, Hermione glanced around. Her letter didn’t specify how she could enter the Manor. Convinced that this was a first test set upon the applicants by none other than Lady Black, Hermione straightened her posture and spoke with a loud, clear voice.

‘I have an appointment with Madame Black at 11am for a job interview.’

She almost felt silly when nothing happened before a loud squeak startled her from her thoughts. The iron gates slowly started moving, opening just enough so that Hermione could slip through. The witch tried to ignore the unsettling feeling in her stomach as she heard the loud bang indicating that the entry had been sealed again. _This time it’s different. This time I can leave whenever I want._ Hermione repeated the words as a mantra in her head to avoid having a panic attack. She didn’t think that would elevate her chances of getting the job. 

The young woman gasped when she finally gathered her senses and looked around. The Manor definitely had changed. While it still breathed grandeur and wealth, the cold and dark atmosphere had vanished. Nevertheless, it still felt unwelcoming to Hermione, and when she looked more closely she could see that the place had suffered from the unrelenting destruction of time. Despite everything being decorated with expensive art or gold or marble, an overwhelming sadness filled every room chilling Hermione to the bone. 

Suddenly a door nearby opened and a rather pale looking young girl fled the room. She looked like she had just graduated Hogwarts and Hermione couldn’t help but notice the faint marks of freshly shed tears on her cheeks. The brunette gulped, not even managing an encouraging smile to the fleeing witch before settling herself on a nearby chair, waiting her turn. A quick glance on her wristwatch told her that she still had some minutes so spare. The moment she saw the big hand slide to the eleven, an ice cold voice sounded.

‘Next.’

Hermione rose from her seat, smoothed some non-existent creases from her jumpsuit and wiped her hands on her blazer. Shaking Narcissa’s hand while her own was drenched in sweat would probably be enough reason for the blonde woman to throw her out on the spot. With determined strides she marched into the office before stopping dead in her tracks, right in front of the chair she was supposed to sit in. Hermione had quite forgotten how impressive Narcissa Black was. She gulped and stretched out her hand.

‘Good morning, Madame Black. Thanks for seeing me.’

The witch, who up until that point had been staring at some notes, took the hand without looking before allowing her gaze to wander to Hermione’s. And then she froze. Hermione doesn’t know how long they stayed like that. Narcissa was still seated and staring up at Hermione in confusion, who was still standing and trying to wriggle her hand free from the death grip it was in. But finally, Narcissa spoke.

‘What are you doing here?’

Hermione’s brow furrowed in confusion as she withdrew her hand and sat herself down on the chair in front of the desk, ‘You accepted my application for the job.’

‘I most certainly did not!’

Feeling her confidence slip like water through fingers, Hermione slowly took her invitation from her purse and showed it to Narcissa who visibly paled at the reveal. Suddenly she seemed to forget that Hermione was there altogether when she started rummaging through her own papers. When she finally found Hermione’s application, she squeezed her eyes shut.

‘I misread your name,’ she sighed, ‘I fear that glasses are becoming inevitable.’

Hermione laughed nervously, trying to relieve the tensions, ‘Well that’s not abnormal for a woman of your –.’

She immediately snapped her mouth shut when she saw the deadly glare from the blonde woman. 

‘I do not need a reminder of my old age, Miss Granger, I thank you kindly.’

‘That’s not what I meant! You look absolutely stunning for your-.’

Hermione nearly slapped herself when she saw Narcissa’s perplexed expression as she made the same mistake _again_. Trying to salvage whatever dignity she still had left, Hermione simply started rambling.

‘No, I mean… you’re stunning. Always. Everywhere. Beautiful. Errrrm, you are – yes.’

Narcissa shook her head but Hermione could swear she saw a smirk flicker across her features before the woman forced her famous stoic expression back on her face. When she saw that Hermione wasn’t moving, she pursed her lips.

‘Miss Granger. Why are you still here?’

‘You haven’t interviewed me yet.’

‘I’m not going to. I apologize for the misunderstanding. You may go.’

Hermione blinked. Totally perplexed. What? She was halfway out of her chair when something stopped her and she sat herself down again. Narcissa looked as if she smelled something extremely nasty and Hermione felt her breath hitch. Oh how she sometimes hated her Gryffindor bravado! 

‘Madame Black. I don’t think that’s fair. You can’t simply dismiss me because of my bloodstatus. That’s discrimination!’

Suddenly Narcissa snapped, ‘Oh Salazar’s snake, stop this nonsense Miss Granger! You HAVE a job. A very demanding and respectable job if I’m not mistaken. So why on earth would you apply for this one? Unless it’s to spy on me?’

And finally Hermione understood Narcissa’s reluctance to talk to her. How odd it must seem to have Hermione Granger, part of the Golden Trio and renowned Curse Breaker at St. Mungo’s, apply to being the assistant of a Death Eater’s ex-wife and pureblood supremacist no less. Not to forget the fact that Narcissa was a Slytherin through and through and used to scheming, plotting, and being suspicious of everyone around her. Hermione managed a kind smile before trying to explain herself.

‘I totally understand where you’re coming from, Madame Black. But if you would allow me to explain?’

A curt nod was all Hermione needed to explain her current predicament at St. Mungo’s and the fact that her boss had allowed her to do this as long as her research didn’t suffer from it. Hermione was smart enough not to mention that said boss was none other than Andromeda Tonks, formerly Black of course, but she made sure to point out that she was going to combine the two jobs if possible. When she continued to explain how she would be an excellent assistant to Narcissa, she noticed a flash of curiosity in the woman’s icy blue eyes before concluding.

‘It would be a perfect business agreement, really.’

Narcissa cocked her head to the side while tapping her nails against the oak surface of her desk, pondering the situation. Suddenly she seemed to have made some sort of decision to give Hermione a fair chance as she dipped her quill in some ink.

‘So, on to the interview then?’ 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa drums her fingers on her desk impatiently, 'Come one, Miss Granger, it's a simple question.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The interview as requested by almost all of you (and to think I wasn't going to write this)
> 
> Big thanks to the Discord for brainstorming and giving me ideas and to arcamenel_alatariel for pointing out ALLLLL the grammar mistakes. Oh and Bet_On_Black, thanks for telling me it doesn't suck when I started doubting the whole chapter xx
> 
> Enjoy!

The moment Narcissa was finished writing down Hermione’s personal information, such as her date of birth and the reasons she applied for the job, the witch took out a list of questions she wanted to go through during this interview. Hermione had to fight every urge not to relax too much, but she knew she had this. She was smart after all. Much to her surprise however, her confidence didn’t last long. In fact, it only lasted until the very first actual question Narcissa asked her.

‘What are the different cleaning products and for what surfaces do you use them?’

Hermione, who had already been mentally listing every clever thing she had ever discovered during her research, felt her jaw go slack. _What?_

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Come on, Miss Granger,’ Narcissa said while drumming her fingers on her desk impatiently, ‘it’s a simple question.’

Hermione raised her chin, refusing to show how much the question had thrownher off balance. She took a calming breath and began listing everything she had ever picked up from Molly Weasley. Despite the fact that Hermione thought it was the silliest question someone ever asked her, Narcissa took notes vigorously. 

‘And of course you must wipe the windows with an old newspaper to avoid it being covered in streaks when it dries,’ Hermione finally concluded.

Narcissa’s head shot up in surprise, ‘Right,’ she said, not being able to prevent her gaze from flicking to the windows of the office. 

Hermione didn’t know what was funnier, Narcissa tutting her lips at the window or the window itself that was covered in streaks as a result of not being cleaned properly. Before the brunette could comment on it, however, the older woman had already refocused her attention on her notes, acting like nothing had happened. 

‘How do you poach an egg?’

‘How do you p - I fail to see why this is relevant?’

The blonde shrugged, ‘I’m just curious.’

‘About poached eggs?’

‘I want my assistant to have a wide variety of skills and knowledge.’

Hermione almost snorted at that but managed to keep herself composed, ‘Well, unfortunately I don’t know how you poach an egg.’

Narcissa clicked her tongue, ‘That’s disappointing,’ before writing something down in her notes. 

‘I can tell you about my work-experience instead? I’m sure that’ll be less disappointing.’

‘There’s no need, Miss Granger. I’ve read all your papers and interviews in the Daily Prophet. I’m perfectly aware of your academic skills. Now how good are you at drawing baths?’

Hermione simply blinked, ‘How hard can drawing a bath be?’

The older witch scoffed, ‘It’s a matter of balance. The water can’t be too hot or too cold, and the bath salts need to be altered to match the current needs of the bather. The tub can’t be too full nor too empty…’

‘I get it,’ Hermione said slightly exasperated. This was by far the strangest interview she’d ever had. 

Narcissa squinted her eyes, obviously annoyed that someone had interrupted her, ‘So how are your massage skills?’

‘My what?’

‘What do you do when someone gets nauseous?’ 

‘Give them some Zofran?’ Hermione tried but mentioning the muggle drug only caused Narcissa to widen her eyes in outrage. 

‘This isn’t some joke, Miss Granger!’

‘Well clearly it is!’ Hermione almost shouted, finally having lost her temper, ‘Why are you asking me these ridiculous questions?’

Suddenly it dawned on Hermione and she slapped her palm against her forehead. Why didn’t she realize this sooner? The gossip about Narcissa’s Black deceased House-Elf had spread like wildfire through the Ministry, eventually reaching Harry who had told Ginny who had told her. Narcissa wasn’t looking for an assistant to help her with research or work. She just wanted to replace her Elf.

‘You’re not looking for an assistant. You’re looking for a maid.’

Narcissa squared her shoulders, her back now ramrod straight on her chair, ‘I don’t know what you are talking about, Miss Granger, but I think we are done here.’

Anger flared up in Hermione’s chest, mixed with desperation. She needed this job! Even if it meant she would be scrubbing the stairs. The answer to her problem was hidden somewhere in those enormous libraries and there would not be another opportunity to enter them. So in a final attempt to rectify the interview, she snatched the list of questions from Narcissa’s hands. The blonde was so shocked, her cold expression momentarily faltered. 

‘Miss Granger!’

‘I’m sorry!’ Hermione shrieked slightly panicking from her own actions while her eyes scanned the list for any questions she could easily answer. 

  * _What are the best cures for a headache_
  * _What are the biggest risks for pregnancies at an older age_
  * _Are you a discreet person_
  * _How flexible are you when there’s an emergency_
  * _Do you have any medical skills or background_



Hermione wasn’t the Brightest-Witch-of-her-Age for nothing, Narcissa realized when she saw the pieces of the puzzle come together in Hermione’s head. She could just see the _aha-erlebnis*_ shimmer in her eyes and she sighed. 

‘You’re… pregnant?’

‘And you’re insufferable. Please. Leave.’

The usually stoic and composed witch had closed her eyes while gently massaging her temples, trying to get rid of the headache the brash Gryffindor had just given her all the while refusing to look at the brunette. And Hermione realized she’d fucked up. The brunette gulped and admitted defeat. 

‘I’m terribly sorry. I really needed this opportunity, but your questions threw me off and I panicked.’

‘Leave.’

Hermione opened her mouth but when she looked at the blonde woman who was now supporting her head between her hands and staring at her lap, she closed it again. As quickly as possible she put her coat back on and grabbed her purse. Hermione walked to the door, but when her fingers enclosed themselves on the door handle she paused and turned around again. 

‘Your secret is safe with me, Narcissa.’

Was it the actual promise or the fact that Hermione addressed the woman by her given name? She had no clue, but the witch did look up and peered at Hermione with those impossible blue eyes of hers before giving a curt nod in appreciation. When Hermione closed the door behind her, she saw that the next applicant had already arrived and was waiting patiently on the chair near the door. In contrast to the young girl that had fled Narcissa’s office in tears, Hermione managed a small smile to the man before the raw disappointment of the whole situation wrenched itself from her throat with a sob. 

***

‘I swear, Andy! The entire interview was horrible.’

Hermione chugged her Firewhiskey and indicated to the barman that she wanted another one. The President of the Board of Directors of St. Mungo’s just looked at her with an amused expression. She remembered the first time Hermione drank whiskey and how she had ended up in a coughing fit, exclaiming how gross it was. And here she was, chugging glass after glass like a true alcoholic. But when she gestured for a fifth, Andy placed the palm of her hand on top of the glass and shook her head.

‘I think that’s enough. Could we get the bill, please?’

‘But Andy…’

‘No, sweetheart. You’ve had enough. I’m taking you home.’

Hermione whined but eventually slipped off her barstool and stumbled after Andromeda who quickly wrapped an arm around the younger woman’s waist to keep her from falling. The moment they were outside, Andy apparated them straight into Hermione’s bathroom. She was one of the very few people who had access to Hermione’s wards and even a spare key to her apartment. 

‘Take a shower and brush your teeth. I’ll be in your bedroom waiting.’

‘Okay bossyboots.’

Andy merely raised an eyebrow as she was, strictly speaking, Hermione’s boss but disappeared through the door to give the witch some privacy. When she emerged dressed in rather damp pyjamas, Andy cast a quick drying spell and pointed towards the bed. She’d already put a glass of water and an anti-hungover potion on the nightstand in case Hermione required it in the morning.

‘Get in.’

‘Are you mad at me?’

Andy laughed, ‘No, sweetheart. You’re a grown witch. You’re allowed to get drunk once every ten years.’

Hermione rolled her eyes. Her friends always teased her for not letting go and always trying to be in control. But once every ten years? That was insulting. Even for her. It also wasn’t what Hermione meant.

‘No. Are you not mad at me for fucking up the interview today?’

‘Of course not. I didn’t like the idea of you being Cissy’s assistant to begin with. And now that it turns out she was merely looking to replace her house-elf? Hermione, you are a _war hero_ and the cleverest witch I know. You shouldn’t be polishing my sister’s shoes.’ 

The younger witch giggled, ‘That sounds like a polite way to say I shouldn’t kiss her ass.’

‘Interpret it any way you like,’ Andy said while rising to her feet, ‘Goodnight, Hermione.’

‘But what about our problem?’

‘That’ll still be a problem tomorrow. You’re a clever girl. You’ll figure something out.’

Hermione stared at her ceiling for almost an hour after Andromeda’s departure, mulling over her words. And then suddenly she had figured it out. She flicked the bedsheets aside and padded over to her office whilst chugging the anti-hungover potion. A decision she would probably regret tomorrow, because although this potion could sober her up momentarily now it was really meant to be taken after the first signs of a hangover. Taking it too soon often resulted in an even worse headache; but, she needed a clear mind right now!

With a snap of her fingers Hermione summoned the sheet of questions she had so inelegantly yanked from Narcissa’s hands. After every question she read, Hermione summoned a book from her personal collection in which she was sure to find an appropriate answer. When she had researched and collected all the answers she needed, Hermione started writing. _Dear Madame Black…_

***

Narcissa had finally managed to stop sobbing. She had fetched her favourite bottle of wine from the cellar only to realize she couldn’t drink alcohol after she’d already opened the bottle. Seeing that dark, red, and delicious liquid disappear down her kitchen sink had been enough to make her cry. Stupid hormones! And stupid Hermione Granger who had given her an aneurysm followed by a very impressive headache. It had resulted in a restlessness that prevented her from sleeping.

She gritted her teeth. She hadn’t intended on asking those questions so bluntly. Narcissa had been subtle, inquiring and almost nonchalant when it came to the other candidates. But for some reason the young witch with her successful career, thinking she could easily get this job, had made her lose control. And she had fired question after silly question just to prove her point. Hermione wasn’t cut out for this particular job.

Unfortunately neither of the candidates were very capable either. Cissy had crossed more than half off her list just by the way they acted around her. A cold shiver ran down her spine when she recollected those interviews. People she couldn’t trust. People who would sell her secret to the highest bidder. Even when she was used to being surrounded by enemies, the mere thought of having someone around her who she couldn’t rely on exhausted her to the bone. 

Narcissa’s face contorted when she sipped her cranberry juice. Apart from having the same colour, it served as a terribly poor substitute for her wine, but still her body seemed to accept it. Even the smell of coffee was enough to make her vomit these days. She twirled the glass between her nimble fingers while squinting at the two last remaining profiles of candidates. While they both lacked the skills she was looking for, she was fairly certain this witch and wizard would keep her secret to themselves. 

Eventually she settled for the witch as she would probably be more comfortable around a woman when she couldn’t get out of her tub without assistance anymore, something she remembered from her first pregnancy. However, the blonde regretted how little she remembered. There had been elves constantly fussing around her, and her mother had given her so many questionable potions to so-called ‘relieve her from stress,’ that the entire nine months were a blur. This time, she would handle things differently. This time, she would do it herself. With an assistant of course. 

That settled it for Narcissa and she shoved her glass aside to write a letter to the lucky witch who got the job. _What was her name again?_ The former Malfoy Matriarch rolled her eyes as she remembered how dreadfully boring the girl had been. No wonder she couldn’t recall her. She dipped her quill in the ink on her desk and pondered on the name, not noticing how a big splotch of ink dripped onto the parchment when an owl startled her. The animal tapped on her window, almost frantically, before glaring at the witch in discontent. 

It was pouring outside, so Narcissa quickly got to her feet to allow the animal inside. She almost snatched the letter from his leg before casting a quick drying spell at the owl that ruffled his feathers. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the letter itself had been charmed to withstand the weather and almost laughed when she recognized Miss Granger’s very neat handwriting. The witch walked back to her desk whilst reading the perfect answers to each and everyone of her silly questions. The girl had done her research, it would seem. 

Narcissa sank back in her chair, momentarily at a loss. Miss Granger had definitely proved her point about really wanting this job. And while Narcissa was reluctant, she did realize that she would have a remarkably skilled witch by her side should things go wrong. She doubted the other girl would know what to do if her magic went haywire because of the hormones. The witch startled from her musings when Hermione’s owl hopped onto her desk and nipped at her fingers. 

‘Shoo, I’ve already dried you. What more do you want?’

The owl gave her a very judgemental look before spreading his wings and flying back home through the open window. Narcissa muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like ‘ _spoiled beast_ ’ before glancing at Hermione’s letter again. And then, she made a decision. She knew Hermione could be trusted. She knew she was capable, smart, and someone she knew; the whole experience would be everything but boring. 

The witch smirked as she rose from her seat and ascended the stairs to her bedroom. Of course she was going to let Hermione wait a little bit longer. She had been terribly rude, after all, and one weekend of insecurity and interrupted sleep seemed like a good way to repay her. Narcissa ignored the little voice inside her head that scolded her for being petty. She was Narcissa fucking Black! She could do whatever the hell she wanted. And now? Now she wanted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * aha-erlebnis --> a moment where you go EUREKA, but I just liked the German version lol


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has her first day of work at Malfoy Manor and realizes, things might be more complicated than she anticipated...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo here we are with another chap! Thanks again at arcamenel_alatariel for proofreading the whole thing. The cleaning scene reminded me of the Sorcerer's Apprentice from Disney and lostinspxce told me the song In The Hall of the Mountain King goes very well with it XD I suggest you check that out
> 
> This chapter is for hpprofessor1 <3

Hermione bristled, annoyed at the owl that had woken her at 5am, but even more annoyed at Narcissa who had waited until the very last moment to inform her she’d gotten the job. She had bolted from her bed and immediately floo’d to St. Mungo’s to make sure she got some work done before she was expected at the Manor. Just when she rubbed some sleep from her eyes, Andromeda entered her office with a smirk.

‘Congratulations!’

‘How do you know?’

Andy merely shrugged, ‘It must be the frantic look in your eyes. My sister has that effect on people.’

‘Very funny. I’m expected at the Manor at 1pm, but I wanted to get my affairs in order here first.’

‘Ah, about that,’ Andy tapped her nose before perching herself on top of Hermione’s desk, ‘I convinced the Board to let you work from the Manor. They only expect you to be present here on Mondays for our weekly meeting.’

‘Really?’

‘You’ve proven yourself to be a loyal worker, Hermione. Time and time again. We trust that you can combine both jobs, but realize it might be a lot easier if those jobs could be done from the same location.’

Hermione smiled, ‘Honestly, Andy, thank you. This helps me so much.’

The older witch merely hummed before pushing herself on her feet again, ‘Good luck, sweetheart. You’ll need it.’

***

Hermione cursed and cursed again. She has just finished collecting everything she would be needing to work at the Manor when an emergency had called her attention. In the end, it had turned out to be a fairly easy curse for Hermione to break, but it had rendered her extremely late for her appointment with her new employer. The brunette flung her bag over her shoulder, cursing  _ again _ when she heard multiple stacks of books topple over.

The iron wrought gates from Malfoy Manor opened the second Hermione Apparated in front of them, allowing the witch to run straight through. The front door was being opened from the inside and by the time Hermione arrived, slightly panting, she was greeted by a very unimpressed madame Black.

‘You’re late.’

‘There was an emergency and…,’ Hermione suddenly straightened her spine, ‘You didn’t give me much time to prepare.’

A perfectly shaped eyebrow was raised as the blonde witch clacked her tongue in disapproval, ‘I suppose that’s what separates a poseur from a truly organised person, Miss Granger. I’d have prepared for the job without knowing I’d have it… out of caution.’

Hermione opened her mouth several times to reply, but found that she was at a loss for words. Narcissa merely stared at her for a whole minute before deciding that the girl wasn’t worth her time. She sighed and stepped aside, allowing Hermione to enter the Manor and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

‘I’d like you to clean the entire Manor. Ever since my elf died, the job has been done rather… poorly.’

The brunette frowned, ‘But that’ll take me hours. Days even! How am I supposed to get my other work done as well?’

Ice, blue eyes gave her a scathing look, ‘You knew what this job entailed before applying for it, Miss Granger. You claimed you could easily combine it with your current occupation. Are you having second thoughts?’

Hermione gulped, but shook her head nevertheless. Narcissa gave her a curt nod in response before twirling around and disapparating without a word, leaving Hermione alone in the Manor. It took the Brightest-Witch-of-her-Age a solid ten minutes of wallowing in self-pity before realizing that she was a witch and could use magic to clean the Manor. A smirk appeared on her face and she unsheathed her wand a tad more dramatically than really necessary before walking further into the big house.

With a simple flick she summoned every piece of cleaning equipment present in the house. There wasn’t a whole lot but she’d manage. With a few more flicks from her wand, the equipment divided itself into groups. She had four buckets with mops. Four brushes for sweeping with matching dustpans, a bunch of sponges and rags, two feather dusters and a window squeegee. Hermione filled every bucket with water and soap and added a sponge. Eventually she had a solid team of cleaning equipment waiting to be ordered around.

The brunette took a deep breath and aimed a  _ piertotum locomotor _ at the first set of brushes and dustpans. With a flick and a twirl, she sent them to the Eastwing of the house. The second set was ordered to the Westwing while the third and fourth set got started on the ground floor. A deep frown appeared on Hermione’s forehead as she focused her magic to the first bucket and the window squeegee, banishing them outdoors to get the outside of the windows cleaned first. The feather dusters busied themselves with removing all the dust from every possible surface while the final buckets with mops had to wait a bit longer until the sweeping was done.

Within the next ten minutes after her arrival, Hermione was practically dancing through the Manor, twirling her wand and redirecting orders. She caught a statue being knocked over by a brush, refilled a bucket that had spilled, and nudged a sponge that had stopped moving. After a few bits of tweaking, everything seemed to run smoothly and Hermione brushed a few sweaty curls from her face. She apparated herself to the hallway where she had a perfect view of all the animated objects flying about. The brunette summoned a desk for herself and dumped her paperwork from St. Mungo’s on it with a loud thump before getting to work.

Hermione quickly became engrossed in her reading, only casually flicking her wand to order some equipment to another section of the house. The mops had also been magicked into action, and the moment a bucket of water emptied its contents over the marble tiles of the hallway Hermione levitated her desk and chair so she wasn’t in the way and could just continue working. And it was at that exact moment, that Narcissa decided to return home.

The blonde apparated right in front of the door and opened it with wandless magic while unbuttoning her robe. When she looked up from her fingers Narcissa’s jaw fell slack at the sight in front of her. There was a broom racing around, quickly followed by a mop. A window squeegee was drying the windows while crumpled bits of newspapers were rubbing the glass to prevent it from streaking. A feather duster nearly smacked Narcissa in the face, and she squeaked when the dustpan raced between her legs to its next destination. In the meantime, Hermione was lazily flicking through a paper, not even noticing her boss’ arrival.

‘What in Salazar’s name is going on?’

Narcissa’s cold voice startled Hermione who nearly crash landed on the marble floor with her desk. Her interrupted concentration also affected the cleaning equipment, which started sweeping, and scrubbing, and wiping, and dusting even more frantically. The brunette winced when a vase got knocked over, shattering into pieces. She scrambled from behind her desk, nearly slipping on the wet floor and tried to regain control over a passing bucket, but to no avail. It was only until said bucket splashed its remaining contents into Narcissa’s face, that Hermione gathered her senses.

‘IMMOBULUS!’

Everything halted in its movements and Hermione, who hadn’t noticed she’d squeezed her eyes shut up until now, nervously peeked through her lashes only to be met with a furious witch. The brunette sighed and with one big  _ whoosh _ of her wand, banished everything back to the cleaning cabinet. She also repaired the vase but was too scared to cast a drying spell on Narcissa who was visibly struggling to keep her emotions at bay.

‘I’m terribly sorry. If you’ll allow me?’

Instead of accepting Hermione’s offer, Narcissa dried herself wandlessly. Seconds before the water had hit her, the blonde had been seriously impressed at the demonstration of magic, but now she had a hard time keeping her cool.

‘What kind of pitiful display was that?’

Hermione’s usually kind, amber eyes hardened a bit at the words, ‘I was doing perfectly fine before you startled me.’

‘You nearly wrecked the place.’

At that, Hermione arched an eyebrow and Narcissa realized she was wrong. The Manor was absolutely spotless. She had no idea the golden accents had once been so shiny, and even the windows were so clear it looked like there were none present to begin with. 

The silence between them lasted another ten seconds before the older witch huffed, ‘Very well. Apart from the unwanted shower you gave me, I assume you did clean the place in record time.’

_ And while working for St. Mungo’s at the same time. Not bad for a muggleborn witch,  _ Narcissa thought, her approval hidden away behind the stoic expression she wore as a mask to protect herself. She just hoped Hermione took the offer of civilized conversation, for she really didn’t feel like arguing. Luckily for her, Hermione inclined her head.

‘I apologize again, Madame Black.’

‘No matter,’ the witch replied coolly, ‘Have you seen today’s Daily Prophet? I haven’t had the chance to read it yet.’

Hermione felt her smile turn into a grimace on her face for she’d used said Daily Prophet to dry the windows. Judging by the cold glare the Mistress of the Manor was sending her, Narcissa had also realized what had happened to her newspaper. The blonde pursed her lips, the only indication of her internal turmoil, before turning around and disappearing into the Manor.

***

‘Madame Black?’

Narcissa looked up from her writings and Hermione was sure she saw a flicker of exasperation flash across her face before it once more morphed into its typically neutral expression. The younger witch had felt so badly about the earlier fiasco she had popped to Diagon Alley to buy a new paper and a steaming cup of the best coffee they sold in London. Gathering her bravery, Hermione managed a smile.

‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere. It sure is a big house.’

‘Get to the point, Miss Granger.’

‘Right! I have a new Daily Prophet for you here,’ Hermione said while placing the newspaper on Narcissa’s desk, ‘And a cup of coffee.’

The witch immediately felt her stomach protest against the smell of the coffee and had just enough time to grab the waste paper basket before throwing up her stomach’s contents. The way Hermione’s face fell almost made Narcissa feel guilty, but the bile burned her throat so much she quickly discarded those feelings.

‘What’s wrong? Are you sick?’

‘Morning sickness, Miss Granger. I’m afraid the smell of coffee doesn’t agree with me anymore. But I’m sure you had the best intentions.’

‘Morning sickness? But it’s the afternoon.’

Narcissa almost chuckled, ‘Yes, well… the name is not very fitting seeing as I’m sick daily at the most inconvenient times.’

Hermione sighed in defeat, ‘Is there anything else I can do?’

‘Just dinner will do and then you are dismissed for today.’

The brunette nodded, slightly annoyed at the idea that she’d be cooking for Narcissa but would end up eating a microwave-meal herself later today. In the meantime, Narcissa had grabbed the Daily Prophet and perused the titles on the cover before her face contorted again when a new whiff of coffee reached her nose. She pointed her wand at the cup to banish it, but the coffee flung itself at Hermione who ducked just in time causing the drink to splash against the wall.

‘Did you just attack me?’ Hermione asked with wide eyes.

‘I most certainly did not! I was going to banish it.’

Something pricked in the back of Hermione’s mind. Something she’d read in a book but couldn’t pinpoint just yet.

‘Try another spell.’

Narcissa tried to light the hearth but the flames set a curtain on fire instead which Hermione quickly put out.

‘Your magic is responding to the pregnancy,’ Hermione stated flatly.

‘So soon?’ Narcissa muttered, shaking her head.

Hermione gulped.

***

Andy frowned when Hermione stepped out of the fireplace with a microwave-meal in hand. She had been telling the witch for months that she needed to take better care of herself, but apparently she still wasn’t doing too well.

‘Andy, that was my dinner!’ Hermione shouted the moment Andromeda banished the food.

‘There’s no way I’m going to watch you eat that. I made too much and it would be a shame to throw it out.’

Hermione smiled. Andy had been systematically making “too much” food and always made sure there was a box delivered to Hermione’s apartment. She once asked Andy to at least let her pay for them, but the witch pretended not to have a clue what she was talking about. She merely had a hard time guessing the amounts right. Or so she claimed.

‘Thanks, Andy. What did you make?’

‘An ovendish with potatoes, minced meat and pumpkin. Do you want soda or water?’

‘Water, please. Thanks Andy.’

The witch hummed while fetching a glass. It always astounded Hermione how much Andy did without using her magic. It was a habit she’d developed when living with Ted and after his passing; she did it to feel closer to him. Hermione agreed that some things shouldn’t be done using magic such as showering or brushing one’s teeth, but she often relied on magic to help her manage her terribly busy schedules.

‘So, what brings you here?’ Andy questioned.

‘I wanted to ask you if you experienced haphazard magic during your pregnancy?’

Andy laughed, ‘Oh yes! I couldn’t touch anything without accidentally changing its colour or shape. I guess Nymphadora’s metamorphmagus was already shining through. Why do you ask?’

Hermione shuffled in her seat. Despite Andy and Narcissa being sisters, she was convinced the youngest Black would not appreciate her secret being told to her estranged sibling. So she simply shook her head.

‘I encountered it during my research. Is there something you can do about it? It sounds rather dangerous.’

‘Mostly it’s fairly innocent accidents, but it can be dangerous, yes. Unfortunately there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s often triggered by stress or intense emotions, so meditation or relaxation exercises might help. But when the unborn witch or wizard is very powerful, that still might not be enough.’

‘Remind me to never have children,’ Hermione muttered, ‘I’m always stressed.’

Andy cocked her head to the side, obviously noticing there was something Hermione wasn’t telling her, but she let it slide. By her knowledge, there was nobody expecting a child within their group of friends. Unless Ginny and Harry decided to go for it, but Ginny was still flying her broomstick for the Holyhead Harpies. The witch squinted her eyes. She’d find out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has survived her first week at Malfoy Manor, combining two jobs, but feels rather demotivated. Narcissa is cold and distant and tries to avoid the brunette as much as possible. That is until they finally find something to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit more planned for this chapter but I'm a weirdo who needs all her chapters to be the exact same amount of pages... but that does mean I already have lots of content for chapter 7 lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy and feel free to leave me a comment! They make me smile like a dork

By the time Hermione finally managed to dive into the Floo, she was seriously considering building her very own TimeTurner. Combining two jobs had proven to be rather difficult and the fact that Narcissa had been cold and unwelcoming all week hadn’t exactly motivated her. The brunette shook her head to shake the dizzy feeling she always had after travelling and glanced at her watch. She had one minute to spare, but she’d almost ran through the morning. Something she wouldn’t have to do if she had a TimeTurner. Such a shame they all got wrecked during that attack on the Ministry of Magic.

She sighed and tried to forget the judgemental look Crookshanks had given her after she flicked some food into his bowl and crashed face first onto her bed. The only time she was at her own apartment was to get a pathetic four or five hour of sleep before heading out again. The Kneazle cat had been terribly grumpy when Hermione woke up before sunrise only to disappear for work minutes later, her hair still damp from the shower. And after a hectic morning at St. Mungo’s, she now stood in Malfoy Manor with the frizziest hair she’d ever sported since her junior year at Hogwarts.

‘There you are. Today you must take on the gardens. They’re ghastly to look at and my evening stroll is meant to be relaxing, not causing me stress.’

Hermione huffed as she still had one foot in the fireplace. The blonde was looking at her from a distance with a haughty expression on her face. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest and her chin was tilted slightly upwards. But her eyes gave her away. During her first week, Hermione had noticed that the coldness in them was just a mask. If you looked closely, you could see her true emotion. Of course most people never dared to look in her eyes longer than one second before turning their gaze away with a shudder.

But not Hermione. She remembered staring into those eyes while being tortured by a madwoman. And she had seen the true emotion then. Narcissa had been disgusted, horrified, scared and shocked by her sister’s actions. And this time, Hermione saw insecurity, shame and vulnerability in those ice blue eyes that pretended to stare at her in disdain. So she stepped out of the fireplace, dusted the soot from her clothes and smiled her most innocent smile.

‘Of course, Madame Black. Anything else?’

Narcissa merely sniffed and disappeared to some far corner of the Manor where Hermione would never find her. She always tried to keep as much distance between them as possible. Hermione sighed. She wasn’t going to push Narcissa into a conversation she wasn’t ready for, but Merlin’s beard was that woman stubborn! Hermione secretly suspected her to enjoy feeling wretched and miserable. The Gryffindor shook her head and ventured outside, wand at the ready to give the garden some much-needed maintenance.

It didn’t take Hermione long to have all the gardening equipment up in the air. The lawn was being mowed, hedges were trimmed and the garden beds were being cleaned of weeds and wilted flowers. The brunette casually strolled through the garden that could easily be some royal park while occasionally ducking for her own enchanted equipment flying about. It was only until she passed a giant shrubbery that once had the shape of a unicorn, that she noticed an enormous greenhouse appearing out of nowhere.

It was made out of black, wrought iron and looked more like a little church than an actual greenhouse. There was a vine that had twirled itself around the entire entrance, forming some sort of natural archway. Hermione was speechless at the harmony of it all. White flowers sprouted from the vine, without blocking the sunlight from warming the plants inside. It was obviously well tended to, unlike the rest of the garden, as the glass was spotless and the pathway to the entrance was free from weeds.

Hermione carefully approached the greenhouse and felt the thrumming of the wards that enveloped it. A quick diagnostic spell told her that it only appeared when someone came close enough, but other than that, the brunette didn’t detect any defensive mechanisms designed to keep intruders out. The moment her fingers touched the glass door, it swung open inwardly and revealed a paradise unlike she had ever seen before.

There were basic herbs that could be found in practically any garden, even muggle ones. But also the rarest of plants were thriving in this greenhouse. Plants and herbs from all over the world, all needed for potion brewing and far too many Hermione couldn’t even identify. There were a variety of flowers as well, in all shapes and sizes and colours. The brunette slowly exhaled, not having realized she was holding her breath. She wanted to reach out to a particularly pretty flower, when she suddenly felt like she was intruding. This was obviously some sort of safe haven for Narcissa and she had entered it without permission.

Hermione quickly made herself scarce from the greenhouse and ran back towards the centre of the garden where she had to prevent two hedge trimmers from decapitating one of the peacocks. The proud animal glared at her before strutting off and Hermione chuckled. She remembered some gossip about Lucius having bought white peacocks, but it slightly amused her to see those rumours were true. He had been a vain wizard after all.

With a snap of her wand, the equipment flew back to its shed, leaving a cleaned up garden in their wake. Hermione nodded, this should do. She wasn’t going to plant flower or anything without the blonde witch’s approval. The grass and the hedges were trimmed and all the decorative ornaments were restored in their former glory, albeit a bench that had been in dire need of a wash or a shrubbery that had to be reshaped to look like an animal again.

Hermione glanced at her watch again. It was too soon to start cooking dinner so she’d have to find Narcissa to ask her what else she could do. The brunette rolled her eyes, knowing she’d be wandering Malfoy Manor for ages before she’d found the bloody woman. Luckily for Hermione, she just saw a flash of a sparkly dress round a corner the moment she entered the Manor.

‘Madame Black!’

But Narcissa didn’t stop and disappeared through the nearest door. The moment Hermione rounded the corner as well; she was standing in an empty hallway. The witch frowned, wondering if Narcissa simply hadn’t heard her or ignored her on purpose. Hermione slowly made her way down the hallway, listening for any indications of where the former Malfoy Matriarch might be, when she heard someone heaving and coughing. With only the slightest of hesitations, Hermione pushed the second door on the left open and froze.

Narcissa was hunched over the sink, her heels discarded next to her feet. The witch was retching rather violently while her black and blonde hair was sticking to her face. She looked absolutely dreadful; as her make-up had started to run the moment her eyes had filled themselves with tears. Her lipstick was smudged and she looked even more pale than usual. Hermione instantly took pity on her and approached the woman with determination.

‘Let me help you,’ the brunette said as she carefully gathered Narcissa’s hair in her hands to keep it from getting dirty.

The blonde tried to speak, but the moment she opened her mouth, she had to vomit again. Hermione quickly conjured a cold compress and pressed it against the nape of Narcissa’s neck. Two blue eyes looked up at her in what looked like gratitude while Hermione filled a glass of water so the older witch could rinse her mouth.

‘It’s mostly bile as I haven’t eaten much today,’ Narcissa finally managed to whisper, ‘But it hurts.’

‘I can imagine. Is it the morning sickness again?’

Carefully the blonde nodded and hoisted herself upwards against the sink. She squinted her eyes and Hermione immediately took the hint and dimmed the lights. Next she conjured a hairband and twisted Narcissa’s locks in a ponytail in case she got sick again. The woman stood trembling on both legs, trying to regain some form of composure again.

‘Isn’t there some potion you can take?’

‘The usual potions one can acquire at St. Mungo’s either smell foul or taste foul. They just make me sick all over again.’

Hermione frowned, ‘One would imagine there existed a potion that could be digested by any pregnant witch. Muggles have invented medication against morning sickness and they don’t have magic to aid them.’

At this, Narcissa’s expression changed and the woman bit her lip. Hermione had a hard time not to grin at the sight of it, but the pureblood-supremacist looked suspiciously adorable when she did that. When the blonde spoke again, her voice sounded hesitant.

‘There is a potion that has no taste and no smell, but it’s difficult to brew and it produces a foul stench in the process before turning into a liquid that resembles plain water. I don’t have the stomach to brew it at the moment.’

The Brighest-Witch-of-her-Age groaned, ‘Potions are my worst subject, apart from Divination perhaps. I’m sure I could brew it with your assistance, but if you can’t stand to come near the cauldron…’

‘There is a way I can assist you, miss Granger. But I won’t do it without your explicit consent.’

Hermione raised an eyebrow, ‘Do tell.’

Narcissi sipped her glass of water again, needing a few moments to recollect. The nausea hadn’t passed just yet and she was aware that talking or moving was making it worse. Eventually, she managed to look Hermione straight into the eyes, once more impressed that the younger woman didn’t flinch or averted her gaze. Gryffindor bravery indeed.

‘I am the most skilled Legilimens in the whole Wizarding Community of Great-Britain, meaning I can read minds, hear thoughts without even needing to look people in the eye. A close proximity makes it easier of course, but I can read people from across the room if needs be.’

Hermione gulped, ‘Are you reading my thoughts right now?’

The witch almost looked insulted as she scrunched up her nose, ‘Of course not, miss Granger! I would never read someone without his or her consent, especially someone who hasn’t harmed me. In times of war however…’

‘I guess drastic times required drastic measures,’ Hermione said drily, ‘But I’m glad to hear your love for etiquette prevents you from digging through people’s minds.’

Narcissa tutted her lips but decided to ignore the jab Hermione made at her. Gryffindors always saw the world either black or white. She sighed.

‘Not just etiquette, miss Granger, but could you imagine how loud my world would be if I allowed everybody’s thoughts in my head? I’ve learned to block them. I only hear people’s thoughts when I want it, unless someone is in distress or thinking very loudly. Then I get bits and pieces, but I tend to ignore them.’

At this, Hermione laughed, ‘I didn’t know people could think loudly.’

‘Oh, they can,’ Narcissa said while carefully stepping closer to Hermione, her cold gaze still fixated on the younger woman’s amber eyes, ‘People like you for example.’

Hermione’s eyes widened almost comically and in her attempt to calm her thoughts, she slapped her hands in front of her face, ‘So you do hear my thought?’

‘Bits and pieces. Strong emotions or a vague word here and there. Nothing to be concerned about. You’re a thinker. Just like me. And we tend to let our thoughts take control, making us easy for Legilimens to read. That’s where Occlumency comes in handy.’

‘I’ve never learned to shield my thoughts.’

‘It’s never too late, miss Granger. If I wanted, I could read you like an open book.’

Hermione opened her mouth, a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue, when the initial cause for this conversation resurfaced in her head. So she shook her head, promising herself she’d ask Narcissa all those questions another time.

‘So, how does that help us brew this potion?’

The blonde almost smirked. Almost.

‘I do not only have the abilities to read people’s mind, I can also communicate with them by projecting my thoughts into their heads. Innocent when used for mere conversation, but dangerous when one attempts to manipulate the other.’

At this, Hermione nodded. She remembered how Voldemort had tricked Harry into believing he was torturing Sirius at the Ministry of Magic. It had looked so real, but she’d had her reservations from the start. Unfortunately, Harry always tended to listen to her _after_ disaster had struck. So they all followed him and had paid a terrible price in the end. Hermione couldn’t agree more with Narcissa. Such a talent as Legilimency was dangerous in the hands of the wrong witch or wizard.

‘So I think about what I’m doing and you can hear me in the next room and tell me what to do?’

‘Indeed,’ was all Narcissa managed to reply as a new wave of nauseas washed over her.

‘Okay. Let’s do it.’

Disbelief flashed over the blonde’s face for a second before her usual neutral expression shifted back into place. She snapped her fingers and apparated both of them into her potions laboratory. Hermione felt her eyes bulge out of their sockets as she quickly scanned her surroundings. One wall was entirely covered in potion books while another was filled with shelves that held ingredients or already bottled potions. There were five cauldrons in different sizes and made from different materials and a giant oak desk that held piles and piles of parchment.

‘Gather these ingredients from the garden,’ Narcissa ordered as she handed Hermione a list she had just written down, ‘You can find them in the –‘

‘The big greenhouse at the back of the garden? I visited it today. It’s absolutely gorgeous!’

Narcissa was silent for a few moments as she processed what Hermione just had said to her, ‘You discovered the greenhouse?’

‘I apologize if I wasn’t allowed to enter it, but my curiosity got the best of me. I didn’t touch anything!’

‘I don’t mind your presence there, miss Granger. I think you’re enough of an academic to appreciate the beauty of the greenhouse whilst treating its contents with the appropriate respect. It’s just… nobody has ever seen it apart from me.’

‘Not even Lucius?’ Hermione blurted out before having had a chance to think about a polite way to ask her question.

Narcissa smiled a very sad smile, ‘Especially not Lucius. Gardening isn’t considered a proper way to spend time for a pureblood-wife. But it’s one of the things I love doing most apart from reading or actually brewing potions. So I warded it. It only appears when you come close enough and when your intentions are pure.’

Hermione was at a loss for words, so she merely nodded and accepted the list of ingredients she was supposed to pick up. She frowned when she gave it a quick read and Narcissa noticed her hesitation.

‘Here, in this book you’ll find sketches of the plants and herbs you need. In case you don’t know them all.’

‘Did you write this book?’ Hermione couldn’t help but ask when she saw the elegant handwriting she recognised from her correspondence with the blonde woman.

‘I most certainly did.’

‘But it’s filled with improvements of existing potions and even completely new inventions,’ Hermione almost shrieked when she flipped through the pages.

Narcissa inclined her head, ‘Like I said, potion brewing is one of my passions. I’ve spent many years researching existing potions and trying to find ways to improve them. The one you’re going to brew now, is one of my own invention.’

Hermione felt her head swirl from the many questions she wanted to ask _again_ and judging by the little smile on Narcissa’s face, the witch could pick up on the Gyffindor’s state of mind. When Hermione had read the introductions of the handwritten book, she looked at Narcissa with such a blinding smile; the blonde was slightly taken aback.

‘Narcissa, you’re a bloody genius!’


End file.
